Gently, Slowly With You
by Val-Creative
Summary: Magic has been here for centuries. Haru knows his abilities to walk among dreams and invade minds is a curse if anything. He decides to live alone on the outskirts of the city, putting up wards. They only come down for Makoto when he decides to visit Haru. /Modern AU. Makoharu. Oneshot.


**.**

 **.**

Dreams are dreams. Dreams do not bleed; they do not howl, nor do they claw ruthlessly.

One cannot touch a dream and manifest it to their inner wishes, and Haru wishes that was true for him. He cannot dream… but he can walk past their barriers and live within them. Manipulate another person's subconscious and bend their reality and minds effortlessly. Even hurt them.

Haru swore he never would again, not to another person. Not to someone he loved.

He had only been a child, frightened of the darkness of his bedroom. His mother only meant to comfort him. She has been in a catatonic and unreachable state for eight years. Haru's father abandons him, right after the tragic incident. His grandmother passes away in the middle of schooling.

Magic has been here on their plane of existence for centuries. Perhaps for however long this little blue planet has come to be. Haru knows this is a _curse_ if anything. He decides to live alone on the outskirts of the city, putting up wards inside and outside the third-story rundown apartment.

They only come down for Makoto's visits. Makoto is… _special_ , Haru supposes thoughtfully.

He isn't afraid of Haru. Either that or he is a little bit of an idiot.

(Maybe it's a little of both.)

Makoto toes off his dress shoes, greeting Haru in the corridor and shrugging off his jacket. "I like the new painting," he says, nodding towards the easel propped up in another room. Haru's acrylic-smeared fingers tighten together. "Is it from today? You're so talented, Haru-chan."

He gushes too much for an adult. Haru's lips twitch faintly upwards. An easy silence drifts between them, Makoto's hand clasping Haru's shoulder and then lowering onto his back.

It's all familiar. _Routine_.

Makoto doesn't need words between them to understand Haru. He's learned all of Haru's facial tics and nonverbal cues over these last few years, and while temporarily rooming together in their teens. Haru has never spoken a word since birth. Communication with others come easiest while immersed and traveling within dreams. In that case, he would rather be stone silent forever. That's a much better option.

Sometimes, Haru wonders if Makoto is the telepath of this relationship.

(Which, of course, Makoto _isn't_.)

He rarely uses his magic, just like Haru.

Shapeshifting requires at least a decade of training and focus and schooling to even manage a stabilized and corporal form.

He's caught Makoto carrying one-sided, smiley conversations with neighborhood dogs and stray cats, while coming home from grocery shopping. Haru only shakes his head and turns away. Whether it's related to his abilities, or just Makoto's eccentricities, remains to be seen.

"Were you wearing that during your painting session?" Makoto asks with a slight laugh, gesturing to Haru's frilly and rose-colored apron. It doesn't feel like an insensitive remark — Makoto is far too _sensitive_ to do most anything.

Haru presses his mouth into a thin line. He glances away, heading towards the kitchen.

"Wait, wait!" Makoto follows after him, grinning and handing Haru an already opened envelope. "I got in, Haru!" he exclaims, watching those oceanic blue eyes widen as the other man skims the letter's contents. "I couldn't believe it either!" Makoto has been wanting to study at the world-renowned university in Tokyo that welcomes magic users, both trained and untrained.

To find meaning in his powers and succeed in a career to help others using them. Haru never bothered with that... _unreachable_ fantasy, but he's glad for Makoto. He really is.

"I'll only be a train ride away from the apartment, I promise," Makoto promises, eyeing him.

Haru nods firmly, meeting that overly worried gaze and secretly hating it. They've never been apart long, not since childhood. Makoto is the only one he feels safest with apart from their mutual friends. If Makoto is worried or anxious, it seeps into their connection, thudding inside Haru's skull until it becomes harsh and _stinging-hot_. "You'll be okay, won't you?"

The protective wards will hold. Haru will continue to sleep in the ethereal darkness. The sun will dawn tomorrow in the same position of sky if they're all lucky.

Makoto will still exist.

(Why shouldn't he be okay?)

Haru's fingers accept the hook of Makoto's own, as the other man smiles and grabs his hand, pulling Haru in.

"Keep my clothes and futon here, alright? I'm definitely not moving out," Makoto tells him, dropping his voice. He slips free and gently unties Haru's apron, holding his hands warmly over narrow hips.

Haru snorts softly, lips twitching again.

 _Idiot._

He soon grows bored of Makoto's need to be gentle, always so _gentle_ and good to Haru, nudging up against Makoto's chest. Haru's fingertips drag across his thick and woolen sweater. Haru pushes Makoto back to one of the stools, climbing up onto his lap and staring heatedly into those big, green eyes.

If possible, Haru wants it like last week — feeling _trapped_ beneath Makoto's weight and arms, his face buried deeply into the mattress. He wants it until Haru can once again hear Makoto deliriously yelling out his name. He wants the pleasurable shudders when Haru is left empty and arching stomach-down on Makoto's sheets, listening in to reassuring words and feeling Makoto's hot breathes on his neck —

Whether or not he projects those memories into their connection, Makoto whines out, turning red. He stammers a couple of unintelligible words, but grasps onto Haru harder when they kiss.

There's a shifting when Makoto leads him, back towards the corridor, hands cupping Haru's face as they exchange another sloppy-wet kiss. Haru's left shoulder smacks into a wall. Makoto's ankle collides into the opened bedroom doorway. Foreheads and noses knock together, and teeth bang uncomfortably when Haru's tongue presses against his, leaving them to squint their eyes and grin and Makoto laughs it off.

He can feel it, like a chasing, fleeting sensation swooping through Haru's belly — _their_ magic tangling and pulsing, surrounding them, like invisible, strong heartbeats.

Makoto makes him feel less cursed.

(He's grateful.)

 **.**

 **.**

* * *

 _Free! isn't mine. I get to post my Makoharu Flash Bang fic! Wooo! Please enjoy it and if you got a second, a nice word or two would be appreciated! :)  
_


End file.
